


Patetico

by dormiensa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Deception, Drama, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Jealousy, Marital Problems, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Violence, Plot Based on Book/Film, Post-Hogwarts, Psychological Trauma, Romance, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-22 06:48:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3719125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dormiensa/pseuds/dormiensa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“‘All’s fair in love and war’—what a contemptible lie!”  ~ Robert Heinlein</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patetico

**Author's Note:**

> Remix of: (Greek mythology) Ares/Aphrodite  
> Beta: withdrawnred

_Andante espressivo ma non troppo et con dolcezza_  


Hermione tightened the bow atop Draco’s anniversary gift.

They’d never thought that their one-night stand, the product of loneliness, loss, and antisocial feelings during the first commemoration of the Battle of Hogwarts, would go beyond that brief encounter. To as much their surprise as everyone else’s, a first date was succeeded by a whirlwind romance and wedding, all within the span of a year. Once they survived two years of marriage, even their harshest and most skeptical critics were effectively silenced by how well-suited they were. 

Hermione still marvelled at how Draco’s bookishness was so like her own. She could still recall her delight the first time he quoted from Strabo’s _Historica hypomnemata_. It was such an obscure reference that historians either did not refer to it or misquoted. And, of course, Draco often intentionally rephrased or reinterpreted their favourite writers’ texts to tease her and challenge her to reciprocate. 

That wasn’t the only area where they’d been pleasantly surprised by a common interest. In the early days, Harry and Ron would roll their eyes when she told them how much fun she had spending a day at the British Museum or the Aryabhata Observatory with Draco. Ginny would stare at mentions of dates to the theatre. And once they were sufficiently acquainted, Pansy would scoff and sarcastically remark at how there could only be two such dullards in all the world and wasn’t it just their dumb luck they’d found one another. But then she’d look a bit wistful.

And during the first few months of marriage and adjusting to their living arrangements, Hermione would often shake her head in disbelief at how _easily_ they’d settled into their routines, how _minor_ were the idiosyncrasies and irksome habits that her parents had warned about. And the nasty bickering that had begun at Hogwarts had morphed into playful battles of wit, reinforcing her belief that she’d found the right partner in life. 

So now, three years on, their ability to maintain the spark of romance along with the right work-life balance was the envy of their friends. It was quickly becoming just a front, unfortunately, especially over the last two months. She had begun finding excuses to leave work later, and Draco would come home after their usual dinner hour at least once a week. 

Hermione sighed as she hid the present in plain sight on the mantle. She had put extra effort into planning their fifth anniversary celebration in the hopes that it would be a first step toward mending her relationship with Draco. Things had started quietly unravelling at some unspecifiable point. She sniffed and wiped away a stray tear. She knew that things were not irreparable; they just needed to talk things out in a calm and civilized manner. That was the problem, really: they had been letting their tempers get the better of them. 

Well, they had to find a way to channel their fighting instincts in the proper direction: saving rather than destroying their marriage.

***

Draco awoke and found his vision completely obscured by a mane of untamed curls. He gingerly removed his arm from about her waist and brushed away the tangle of hair until a slender neck was revealed. He kissed it at the juncture where it met her shoulder and felt her stir and mumble something incoherent. Resting his forehead lightly against her bare back, Draco sighed. Last night had been the most awkward dinner they’d ever shared.

_The honeymoon period has to end sometime, Draco. You’re just lucky it lasted so long._

Loath as he was to admit it, he knew Pansy was right. This whole thing with Hermione had been like a dream. Perhaps it really was too good to last. His life hadn’t run this smoothly since he was five. Well, up until three months ago. 

Draco carefully got out of bed and tucked the blankets around his wife.

***

Hermione awoke when she felt cool sheets and a wide space where she’d expected a warm body and realized that his side of the bed was empty. She sighed. Draco had always been an early riser, but she’d hoped that this morning…

She sighed again and turned onto her back. _Well, last night was a disaster._

They’d agreed to have a pleasant evening. It was, after all, their fifth anniversary. Draco had loved his gift, and she’d been touched at the thoughtfulness of hers. But although they didn’t fight and didn’t trade cutting remarks, dinner was far from pleasant. The conversation was stilted and awkward. And the silences in between painful. She’d hoped that the mild aphrodisiac she slipped into the wine would at least end the evening on a nice note, maybe even induce him to (mis)quote the great romantics in that teasing way she missed so much… 

Oh, they’d had sex. But that was all it was. Sex. Not only had it been unsatisfying, it had been perfunctory, almost mechanical. He’d brought her to orgasm—it wasn’t as if he’d suddenly forgotten his technique. But the intimacy was missing. The connection was missing. Hermione sighed. Had she realized the reality of using such a potion, she’d rather they continued their dry spell.

***

“What do you mean you have to work tomorrow as well?”

“It was hardly my choice! Phillips botched the concoction and we still haven’t contained it.”

“We’ve been planning this for weeks—you _know_ this is the only day that worked for all of us.”

“Look, I didn’t tell the sod to screw up the potion on purpose to avoid spending time with our parents. I was looking forward to seeing them as much as you! But everyone in the department has been called in to help, and I can’t very well say I won’t be here tomorrow because I have plans.”

“Ugh, fine! I’ll just make up some excuse.”

“Just tell them the truth! This could potentially be a life-threatening situation if we let it spread into the rest of the Ministry.”

“Now you’re being melodramatic!”

“Medusa’s twat, woman! We agreed that only life and death could infringe on life outside of work. Well, guess what? _This_ is one such occasion! I’ve got to go. Likely not going to make dinner tonight.” 

With that, Draco’s head disappeared into the flames. A good thing, too, because a moment later, the fireplace exploded. Even after all these years, Hermione still experienced bouts of accidental magic when incensed enough. A semicircular layer of brick dust and ashes now covered the floor in front of it. 

Hermione took several deep breaths and counted to twenty… thirty… fifty. Finally, she cleaned up and headed toward the kitchen to put away a portion of the ingredients she’d set out.

***

Hermione took a deep breath as she paused before the closed door. Luna was right: she was being unreasonable. Anger at Draco over missing the outing with their parents was unfair. It hadn’t been an excuse to avoid spending time together. Even so, he had been working ridiculously long hours recently, and she’d hoped the outing would be a welcome break for him, a chance to relax. He got along very well with her dad. Being the affable person he was, her dad had even managed to help Draco partly repair his relationship with Lucius; father and son were at least more willing to talk to each other about problems.

If only she could find an opening to do the same.

Well, their mutual silent treatment had already lasted a week, and seeing as she was more in the wrong this time, she would be the bigger person.

Draco was stretched out in his favourite chair, reading. She carefully placed the mug of tea on the little table and then cautiously wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind, pressing a beseeching kiss into his hair. He put the book aside and pulled her into his lap. 

In between kisses, Hermione tried to start a conversation but was thwarted each time. From the knowing smirks he gave after every frustrated attempt, she knew he was avoiding. But his kisses were so tender and his hands were so eagerly exploring her…

Perhaps the talk could be postponed, now that they stopped being angry at each other.

***

Hermione looked at the clock and groaned internally. It was three o’clock and she’d not gotten a wink of sleep. Given that she needed to be up at five to prepare for her early meeting with the German delegate, there seemed little point in trying for sleep—why run the risk of being late?

Getting out of their bed slowly so as not to wake Draco, Hermione slipped on her dressing gown and turned to tuck the blankets around him. She paused when she realized that he’d been sleeping with his back toward her, something he only did when he was angry. She gave a small sigh. They’d been avoiding one another again.

 _“Fine! You want to know what’s ‘got me in a snit’? Weasel King so kindly informed this afternoon during our Quidditch game that_ you _were the mastermind behind the enforced ‘community service in lieu of imprisonment’ scheme.”_

_“I was just thinking out loud! I was surprised when Kingsley actually took it seriously. But you know what, it’s a great idea! Instead of wasting time rotting away in a cell, why not have them help with the rebuilding effort? They’re a part of the community, and having everyone work in harmony is the best way to put memories of the war behind all of us and start anew.”_

_“Dumbledore would be so proud.”_

_“I didn’t suggest it for House points! Antagonism of a subset of the population creates animosity. We wouldn’t be any better than Voldemort. His defeat and the deaths of so many on both sides would’ve been for nothing because we would’ve lost the war.”_

_“Well, ‘we’ certainly are doing a fine job espousing acts ‘for the greater good’. Just… forget it. No point talking about this when ‘we’ are on our high-horse.”_

_“Draco—”_

_“NO!”_

Hermione sighed as she sipped her tea. She really didn’t understand why Draco had been so upset. Was he really that angry that she hadn’t told him directly? She’d assumed that he’d known all along. And it wasn’t as if Lucius was complaining about the tasks he’d been assigned; in fact, Narcissa had told her over one of their afternoon teas that he was very grateful not to be staring at the moulding stone walls of Azkaban. It seemed unlikely that Narcissa would lie about such a thing. 

Hermione shifted in her seat and stared blearily into her cup. The tea wasn’t quite strong enough to keep her awake for long. She’d switch to coffee, with some added Pepper-Up, before the meeting. No reason to embarrass herself before the Germans.

***

Draco stared dumbly at the Weasel King, unable to process what he’d just heard. When the words finally registered, he glared at Potter for validation. The look on Potter’s face said it all.

Draco disappeared with a _pop!_ , knowing blackmail-worthy things would burst out if he stayed.

When he landed in his old “tantrum room”, he took a steadying breath before calling one of the house-elves to fetch him some Firewhiskey. He then put a warning spell on the door for his parents.

She didn’t want children, didn’t see having any in the foreseeable future! 

He hit the large porcelain vase with such force that it might not be reparable for use in another session. He aimed his wand at another. 

They had never discussed when they’d start a family, but Draco had always assumed he’d be a father at some point. And now that they’d been married for five years, it was as good a time as any to begin the attempt. Of course, he hadn’t realized she felt differently on the subject. 

A few shards almost penetrated the Shield Charm. Not that it mattered. His eyes flashed when the ugly bust of Bellatrix materialized. He’d always taken particular relish in blowing it to bits.

He wasn’t going to give up fatherhood without a fight. But how to tell her without seeming to beg? Perhaps there was some rule in the family charter that could convince her that providing an heir would be… No, she’d be frustrated for the duration of the pregnancy, and that wasn’t good for either her or the baby. But how—?! 

Draco clutched his hair. He didn’t even want to consider the possibility of failing to find a solution.

But as he smashed his way through the collection of breakable objects, it occurred to him that perhaps her objections had to do with not wanting to have children with _him_. His rage dissipated. He triggered the spells that would reset the room and slumped into a chair.

Should he give up? _NO_ , a tiny voice at the back of his mind emphatically supplied. Newlywed bliss may have ceased, but surely things were not beyond repair. He thought of Hermione’s contrition over her anger at the outing he’d missed. And the anniversary gift she’d chosen. No, not signs of having given up. He just had to wait for the right moment to talk. He’d find the right words, somehow. Hopefully. And he would be calm and try to reason with her. It wasn’t as if she didn’t like children—she always played with the sprogs at The Burrow. She just had to realize that having children of her own would be that much more satisfying. 

Draco re-emerged and headed toward his old rooms to freshen up… and found Hermione waiting.

“Draco…”

A small bubble of anger erupted, and he ignored her as he headed toward the bathroom. _Circe’s teat!_ He wasn’t ready to deal with her yet. Why were Gryffindors always so anxious to “talk it out” at such times? Folly! Well, he wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction. 

He came out and stopped short at the sight of Hermione with tears in her eyes. His grandfather’s face flashed before his eyes and the old wizard’s frequent warning resounded, unbidden: _Beware of the tears of women! They are the ultimate weapon of manipulation! You must never let them control you! It took me three tedious months, but I finally stopped your grandmother from ever using them. And I made sure she trained my three girls to never attempt such unseemly behaviour. Always show who is Lord and Master!_

Well, Grandfather Black had not been as successful as he boasted for Draco had seen his father helpless in the face of his mother’s tears. And that was nothing compared to the torrent of Gryffindor emotions he’d suffered—and not only from his wife!

While caught up in his inner turmoil, Hermione managed to sneak up on him and now had her arms around his waist. “Draco, Harry and Ron told me what happened. They caught me by surprise the other week. I’ve been meaning to sit with you to talk about it. I’m not saying ‘no’, but we really should plan things out. Parenthood is a huge responsibility, and we need to be ready.”

His emotions in check, Draco sighed and looked at her. “I haven’t said ‘hello’ to my parents yet, and there will be consequences if I delay any further. Be prepared: Mum will insist we stay for dinner.”

“Draco…”

“We can send one of the house-elves to the house to put things away if you’re worried about anything going bad. We both have had a long week, so let’s give them the chance to pamper us a bit.”

Hermione sighed and allowed him to lead her downstairs.

***

“Granger, you need to have sex with him.”

Her train of thought suddenly shattered, Hermione blinked several times before registering Blaise’s sudden appearance in her office. “I beg your pardon?”

“I don’t care how or even if it’s angry sex. You just need to make it happen. He’s turning into a Hufflepuff, and it’s scaring both Pansy and me.”

“Oh, so this is some weird ‘for the greater good’ act I should just do.”

“Yes.”

Hermione huffed. “I’m not male, Blaise. I can’t just turn on the lust.”

“Use a potion, then.”

“No! I’ve used one before and I hate the after-effects.”

“Fine! Use a spell! I can cast it for you, if you need. Don’t worry: I’ve done it many times before, for both myself and my friends.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

Blaise shrugged. “Have it your way. Just… put him out of his misery, will you? You know it’s bad when both he and Pansy have complained to me about this. In any case, I won’t keep you from your work any longer. Have a good afternoon.”

Hermione scowled at Blaise’s retreating back. _Damn all manipulative Slytherins and their skills at pushing guilt buttons!_ She massaged her temples. Well, she supposed Blaise had a point: some sex was better than none. As to the how…

She left a suggestive trail of clothing leading from their fireplace to the library. When she eventually heard the _foom!_ of the flames, she took a final gulp of Firewhiskey and pretended to be looking for a book so that he could stare at her lingerie-clad body without making her feel self-conscious.

She heard the door open. And found herself trapped between the bookcase and his body. She pushed at him to ease the pain against her ribcage. He pulled back slightly, but his frantically desperate kisses did not ease up. She let out a moan as she felt him hardening against her belly. As if startled out of a trance, Draco pushed away, breaking all contact. He looked at her in terror, as if she were a ghost, and then fled with a barely-stifled cry and stumbling feet. 

Hermione slid to the floor with a thud, although she barely noticed the pain in her lower back and buttocks as the tears streamed down her face.

***

Draco groaned when he stepped out of the fireplace and found a hands-on-hips Hermione glaring at him.

“Were you _ever_ going to tell me about the shoulder dislocation?”

He sighed. He really didn’t want to start an argument, not after the day he’d had at work. “I didn’t want to worry you. That’s the only reason I didn’t tell you. Now, can we please just have dinner? I’m completely knackered.”

She threw up her arms. “Fine! Terribly sorry that worrying over your health is such an inconvenience!”

“You threatened to ban us from playing again if there was another injury.”

“George nearly broke his neck that time! The girls and I just want our husbands to return alive and well! We wouldn’t’ve banned Quidditch over a simple shoulder dislocation. Susan had you righted in a flash.”

“Oh, so my shoulder injury isn’t important enough for concern.”

“That’s not what I meant! I would’ve fussed like a good wife _if I’d known about it_. Instead, I find out after the fact and only because Susan asked if you’d been having any problems with it recently because of the rains we’ve been getting.”

“Well, I burned my finger dealing with a finicky potion today. Would you like to kiss it better?” He held out the already-healed finger to her. Hermione bit it. “Ow!”

“You deserved that! If you’re going to make a mockery of my concern for your well-being—Where do you think you’re going? We’re not done talking!”

“Oh, yes, we are! And this isn’t ‘talking’; this is accusations for wounded pride. I’m taking a shower!” 

Draco Apparated to the bathroom. And later ate dinner alone.

***

As soon as they stepped out of the fireplace, Hermione looked about in surprise and then excitement. The restaurant was the newest one to open in Diagon Alley, and despite having just arrived on the scene two weeks ago, bookings were already extending into next month. As the _maitre d’_ showed them their table, she waved to familiar faces she encountered.

Once they were seated, Hermione squeezed Draco’s hand to show her gratitude. He smiled and pointed out a few items on the menu that were the chef’s specialties. In response to her enquiring eyebrow, he informed her that the chef was a Housemate two years ahead who’d asked him to consult on the dishes during the planning stages. Hermione rolled her eyes but chose from his recommendations, trusting his judgment when it came to food. She was not disappointed.

They chatted amiably about the food and other inconsequential topics throughout dinner. For once, Hermione left her irritations at home. Draco had always been great at planning these sorts of events—having trained with Narcissa—and she was having a good time. While she knew it wasn’t Draco’s intention, the date certainly made up for their rather lacklustre fifth anniversary dinner. Hermione made a mental note to leave these to him in future.

***

“Absolutely not!”

“It’s not as if you have any particular plans that weekend! And it’s for a good cause!”

“I never realized that one of my marital obligations was to attend every charitable event ever dreamt up!”

“You’re only objecting because it’s not high-profile like the Orphans Ball or the Rebuild Diagon Alley Foundation Night.”

“Rubbish! Attendance to those are mandatory for all Death Eaters and their families. I’d much prefer the smaller causes I personally care about.”

“Oh, so it makes no difference that _I_ care about—”

“Since when have you cared about saving dragons and their habitat? You were _terrified_ of riding the Gringotts dragon! You’re only doing this because Charlie Weasley asked. All this so-called loyalty among Gryffindors—how exactly is it different from the ‘House solidarity’ you like to accuse Slytherins of perpetrating?”

“I’m not just doing this because of Charlie! You know I’ve always advocated for fair treatment of all creatures!”

“Oh yes, of course. Gave a sizeable donation to the Boggart Fund, have you?”

“Ugh!” Hermione threw up her arms in exasperation. “And _no one_ is _required_ to attend the Orphans and the Rebuild events. People _do_ attend because they want to.”

“Those on the winning side, perhaps. Father and Mother were threatened with suspicions of noncompliance if they refused.”

“I’ve never heard about this!”

“Of course you haven’t. The Ministry isn’t completely idiotic.”

“I don’t believe this! Kingsley would never—”

“Perhaps. But he can’t monitor what his minions do, can he? Remember how Umbridge managed to order that Dementor to harass Potter without Fudge’s knowledge?”

“I’ll get to the bottom of this. Meanwhile, could you please look on it as a favour to me and attend Charlie’s charity event?”

“And how will I be compensated?”

“ _Compensated?_ You willingly attend the ‘mandatory’ events as a matter of Malfoy family pride, so—”

“Just like you ‘willingly’ go to your aunt Cecilia’s annual garden party.”

“We all do stupid things for the people we love!” Hermione stopped short and clapped a hand to her mouth, having realized the implications of her words.

Draco gave a cruel smile and said, in his best Snape voice, “So, apparently my refusal is proof that I don’t love you enough. Very well, then. I can only but live up to such expectations.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it!”

“Do I? Well, perhaps we’re now even. After all, _if you truly loved me_ , you would never have allowed my father to be so humiliated as to ask his friends for money like a beggar—and all under the watchful eye of Arthur Weasley.”

Hermione gasped, looking as if she’d been slapped. With a final contemptuous glare, Draco left the room.

***

Draco heard the clearing of a throat and looked up, astonished, to see Pansy standing at the door of the laboratory. He looked at the clock. “Panse, what the hell are you doing here at this hour?”

Pansy’s lips thinned even more. Stalking up to him, she slapped him. “The more pertinent question is: what the hell are _you_ doing here at this hour?” She grabbed him by the ear and dragged him to the nearest fireplace. They landed in her sitting room and headed toward the small conservatory. Pansy locked the door and Silenced the space. She let go of Draco.

“What the f—”

“Language!”

“—blazes is going on?” Draco rubbed his sore ear. 

“You tell me! You tell me why you’ve been working so much overtime that your wife is almost convinced you must be having an affair!”

“Well, I’m not! As I’m sure you told her—otherwise, you’d be demanding to know _if_ I was having an affair.”

“Are you thinking of divorce, then?”

“NO!” Draco rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I just… can’t deal with ‘talking’ every time I step through the fireplace.”

“What did you do now?”

“I didn’t do anything! And why are you assuming I’m the one to blame?”

“Because either you’d’ve complained to Blaise and me or Hermione would’ve said something about apologies.”

“We’ve just had some stupid arguments, that’s all.”

“She showed up at Dragon Weasley’s event alone. _Everyone_ noticed.”

“It was one event too many! I just needed a quiet weekend to take a break.”

“Did you tell her that?”

“When has she ever listened?”

“That’s not fair. You _know_ she’s a good listener. You’ve got to stop making her think the worst of you. Shut it! You know that’s what you do whenever you’re on the defensive.”

Draco pouted and huffed into the closest chair.

“Don’t you get sulky on me, Draco Lucius Malfoy! If you don’t tell me the truth, I’m locking you in here with Narcissa.” 

“Pa-aaaanse…”

“Keep acting like a child and I’ll magick that baby bottle, too.” 

Draco deflated and ran fingers through his hair. “I don’t know why we’ve been fighting so much. They’re stupid things, too. We’ve done events on our own before, but all of a sudden, it’s a big deal that I go with her to this thing. ‘ _If you loved me, you’d go with me_.’ And then there was that picnic with our parents I had to miss because of the potions disaster.”

“And the baby thing.” When Draco didn’t respond, Pansy sighed and sat across from him, taking his hands in hers. “Draco, did you and Hermione ever discuss when you planned on having children?”

“No, but—”

“She never said she didn’t want children, did she?”

“No, but—”

“No ‘but’s about it. We’re not Weasleys, remember? The arrival of a child has to be carefully thought out and planned. So, no point blaming this on Hermione. In any case, it’s not as if you’ve got some deadline. You’ve only been married five years. My parents waited almost ten years before having me.”

“And look how perfect you turned out. Ow!”

“You’ve got to stop thinking she’s going to leave you. And tying her down with a sprog isn’t the way to keep her around, either.”

“That _isn’t_ the reason at all! It’s just the natural course of things to start thinking about the possibility of children. My parents had me after a few years of marriage, so I was just…”

“Freyja knows why Hermione would want to have your sprogs, but she does. You just need to talk it out— _with each other_ and not with Potter and Weasel King. I can’t believe you’d do something so daft. I thought Seamus was having me on. And while we’re on the topic: if you have a problem with Hermione, _tell her directly_. As of today, Blaise and I are going to send you home if we discover Hermione’s not the first to hear about the issue.”

“Yes, _Mémère_.”

“Trust me, Draco, you’ll have fewer misunderstandings between you this way. Just… treat it like the bickering-foreplay you used to have with her. Morgana knows you need to ejaculate more often. How often do you two have sex?”

“None of your business.”

“Not often enough, then.”

“You’re not a rotten Mind Healer and I’m not your patient!”

“No, but these are things my Mind Healer got Seamus and me to admit, and I’ve found his advice works. Don’t scoff! If you go on this way, eventually all your fears will come true and Hermione _will_ leave. Do you want to wait until then to do something about it?”

“But I’m not a Hufflepuff!”

“I’m not saying you have to tell her every single fear you’ve had since age five! Or how sad you felt when your peachick died! But you’ve got to start treating her like your best friend and _tell_ her why you’re upset about something that’s related to your marriage.”

Draco sighed. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Do you love her?”

“You know the answer to that.”

“Then you _can_ and _will_. Draco, look at me: she’s a Gryffindor. They have a lot of faults, but desertion _isn’t_ one of them.”

She sent Draco home in a thoughtful mood.

***

Hermione took one look at the faces gathered around the table and sighed. “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”

Susan steered her into the empty chair that Pansy pointed at. Ginny piped up, “No, but this is certainly an intervention.”

Susan sat down next to Hermione. “A belated one, but hopefully not too late.”

“I think I’ll have the beet salad and the soup of the day—I like vegetable minestrone.”

“Yes, good call, Luna. Let’s order first and get that out of the way,” Ginny said.

After their server had taken their orders and walked away, Susan placed a hand gently over Hermione’s. “Pansy approached Luna and me, and the three of us have been comparing notes. We realized that there’s been a slight breakdown in communications between you and Draco. We or our husbands seem to be the first to hear about issues between you, and this has been the trigger for a lot of recent fights. While we’re happy to be listeners, it’s important that both of you talk problems out and not find out about them second-hand.”

“Draco won’t talk to me. Every time I want to put something on the table for discussion, he either brushes it off or gets so completely defensive that we end up fighting over stupid remarks.”

Pansy eyed Hermione. “I hope you haven’t been starting these discussions with ‘We need to talk.’ Draco doesn’t respond well to that statement. Reminds him too much of so-called ‘discussions’ with Snape and Lucius. Of course, they phrased it slightly differently—‘Shall we convene to my office for a small chat, Mister Malfoy?’ or ‘If you’ll excuse us, Draco and I are due for a _tête-à-tête_. Quality father-son time, you understand.’ Essentially the same thing, though.”

“Lucius is one scary dad. Good thing you’ve faced worse with Voldemort and the other Death Eaters, ’Mione.”

“I think the Battle of Hogwarts and its aftermath have really mellowed him, Ginny. I certainly haven’t been subjected to any of his snide comments about blood purity and superiority ever since Draco brought me to the manor for dinner the first time. I’ve been expecting him to slip up, but it hasn’t happened yet.”

“That’s because Narcissa gave him a thorough telling-off. Draco doesn’t know the details, but rest assured that Lucius isn’t ever going to misstep. If you think Lucius is scary, just try getting Narcissa riled up.”

“You’re right, Pansy. I haven’t witnessed it nor been the target of her ire, but I’ve always known Narcissa was the more formidable. She risked everything when she chose to save Harry’s life.”

“I’m eternally grateful to her for that,” Susan said.

“We all are. ’Mione could never have married Draco if Voldemort had won.”

“Nor Pansy Seamus. What about you, Ginny? There are still a few eligible Slytherins.”

“And give my parents heart attacks?”

“Pish. You’re not even afraid of them.”

“I’ve caught Blaise eyeing you, Ginny. Although, I do have to warn you to tread carefully if you enter that particular arena.”

Hermione laughed. “Good to know there’s true friendship and solidarity among Slytherins, despite your claims to the contrary.”

Pansy made a face at her. “We’re just much more careful and selective about whom we call our friends.”

“And do any of us fall into that exalted category?”

“I’m having lunch with you, aren’t I?”

The girls all laughed. Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of their appetizers. A momentary lull pervaded as they took their first bites. Then the usual round of sampling of each other’s plates switched the direction of the talk toward how well the chef had prepared each of their delectables.

Finally, as they settled into their entrées, Pansy spoke up. “Hermione, I know you feel that we’re interfering, but the success of your marriage is very important to me. You won’t know this, but about a year ago, I was on the verge of asking Seamus for a divorce. It was my Mind Healer who made me realize that I’d been trying to emanate what you and Draco have and finding my relationship lacking.”

Hermione’s eyes registered shock. She knew it cost Pansy a lot to admit so much and to so many at once. “I’m so sorry, Pansy. I didn’t notice anything amiss between the two of you. Any bickering I just assumed was business as usual. You’ve always loved picking fights with Seamus to get him riled. And he really _is_ a lot of fun to tease; thank goodness he takes it with such good humour most of the time. Unlike Draco.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. Draco has to truly respect a person before he’d verbally spar with him or her.”

“I had no idea he held Harry in such high regard,” Susan joked.

The girls giggled. “I think Harry is the exception to that self-imposed rule,” Ginny commented.

“Are things truly all right between you and Seamus, Pansy?”

“It took a few months of intense talks with the Mind Healer, but I think we’ve worked out how to start a discussion when either of us feels there’s a problem.”

“And that’s what we’re really hoping you can do as well, Hermione. Of course, you can’t expect Draco to be as open as Harry—”

“Or as tactless as Ron.”

“And Seamus.”

Susan grinned at the interjections from Ginny and Pansy but chose not to comment. “—but not having a safe environment in which to have open communication is not conducive to maintaining a stable relationship. And the method that works for you will be different from the one Pansy and Seamus have. And the one I have with Harry, for that matter. It will take time and effort and patience to figure that method out. You remember how long it took me to get Harry to finally admit to his fears.”

“And a good thing you had such patience, Susan. I never could get past the wall of guilt. We just ended up fighting. ’Course, we also came to the realization that what we had was more a brother-sister bond… just without any incest.”

“Hermione believes that Draco will insult her like he used to in school if she shows a lack of courage. It’s funny because Draco is afraid Hermione will always hold his past against him.”

The table fell silent. Pansy, Susan, and Ginny picked awkwardly at their food to avoid looking at Hermione, who was gaping at Luna. 

Luna held Hermione’s gaze and continued. “Trust is even harder to obtain than love. It is also more unforgiving although necessary for a relationship. You are braver than Draco, so you have to take the first step, Hermione. Draco will follow once you start talking about your secret doubts.”

Hermione closed her mouth and pondered Luna’s words. Luna smiled and continued eating. Pansy cleared her throat. Susan and Ginny exchanged relieved looks.

After a much less awkward pause, Hermione responded. “You’re right, Luna. Draco and I have trust issues. And I _have_ been approaching it from the wrong direction. I’ve been blaming him for my fears. I guess I’ve been provoking him to apologize first because it would mean he won’t hurt me again.”

“Hermione, Draco will always say daft things he doesn’t mean when he’s scared. But I can tell you with complete confidence that not once in his whines has he even _implied_ that he’d rather a life without you.”

“That makes the git worth fighting for… and with, doesn’t it, ’Mione?”

Hermione smiled and looked each of them in the eye. “Yes, it does.”

***

The house was eerily silent and dark when Draco stepped out of the fireplace. He checked his watch: he was home within the acceptable grace period. He’d even gotten a genuine smile when he’d told her in the morning that he wouldn’t be working any overtime, and she’d renewed her promise that only hell and high water would keep her at the office…

 _Has she gotten into some sort of accident?_ No, that wasn’t possible—someone would’ve contacted him. _Maybe she was attacked in some remote place and is now lying unconscious? Kidnapped by some lunatic? Splinched?_ He needed to find Potter to gather a team—

The _foom!_ interrupted his panicked thoughts. A weary-looking Hermione with red-rimmed eyes stepped through. 

“Oh, thank Merlin!” 

“Draco, what—Draco… I can’t breathe…”

Draco loosened his stranglehold a bit. And was bombarded with an assault of kisses. And then felt the breath squeezed from his body. “Too… tight…”

Hermione loosened her iron grip. But refused to detach her face from his chest. Draco managed to manoeuvre them into the love seat. He soothed her back and pressed kisses into her curls. 

Hermione finally sighed and untangled herself. Cupping his cheeks, she gazed earnestly, almost hungrily at him. “Mabel had a heart attack.” She struggled to talk amidst the tears. “Just… fell senseless onto the floor during our team meeting. The… the Mediwitch tried everything. We all… waited with her… body at Mungo’s until her husband… arrived.” Hermione drew a deep breath. “While we were in the morgue—death is such—even after seeing so much of it while defeating Voldemort—I don’t think I’ll ever—” She kissed him. “I couldn’t bear to lose you just like that, not with how things are— _mmmmphhhhh_ …”

Draco’s kisses were not any less frantic in their need to give and receive reassurance. They were soon breathless but still unwilling to pause. 

Eventually, Draco leaned so their foreheads touched. “It would’ve killed me to lose you like that. I—I thought you were in trouble when I saw the house all dark. Was going to get Potter to organize a search—”

“I’m sorry; I was so distracted with—You were going to ask Harry for help?”

“Not funny. And it’s very rude to tease. I would’ve begged Weasel King if he were of any use.”

“Harry’s definitely the better choice. Stop laughing! And don’t you dare tell Ron—”

“I’m sure Weasel King is quite aware of why Potter’s Deputy Head Auror and not himself.”

“Still, there’s no need to hurt his feelings.”

“You’re always so sensitive about hurting _his_ —”

“Well, you always claim you’re not a pygmy puff of emotions like Ron is. Is the great Draco Malfoy admitting—”

“Just because I have good control of myself doesn’t imply a lack of affection—”

“So, you do love me.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “ _Obviously_. I endure those monthly Weasley Sunday Brunches and Games Night at your uncle Harold’s, don’t I?”

“Such sacrifices. It’s not as if tea with second-cousin-twice-removed Egberta is that scintillating.”

“ _‘This is the very ecstasy of love Whose violent property foredoes itself, And leads the will to desperate undertakings._ ’” 

She made a face. “ _‘O, Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou, Romeo?’_ ”

“Hey! _‘If thou remember'st not the slightest folly That ever love did make thee run into, Thou hast not lov'd.’_ ” 

“ _‘They say all lovers swear more performance than they are able, and yet reserve an ability that they never perform.’ ‘I do not seek to quench your love's hot fire, But qualify the fire's extreme rage, Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason.’_ ” 

“So… that means I don’t have to attend Weasley Brunches anymore? Ow!” 

Draco grabbed the offending hand and pressed it against his heart. Hermione stuck her tongue out. He nibbled teasingly at it when he closed the gap between them and forestalled further retorts.

***

“You’re home earlier than I expected! Did you have a good time with Blaise—” Hermione found herself dragged from the chair and Draco’s hands digging painfully into her forearms as he shook her. Twice.

“You spiked the wine, didn’t you?” he snarled.

“Draco what are you—Let go of me!”

“I was being subjected to Blaise’s usual mock ribbing that my loss of sexual stamina is clearly a sign of age when, in response to my retort that at least I’ve never resorted to any sort of derived stimulus, he laughed. He then made some cryptic allusion to you having the same aversion to such potions and that we must have suffered a nasty after-effect.” There was a dangerous glint in his eyes; it was a look she hadn’t seen in years. “You spiked the wine on our anniversary, didn’t you?” He shook her again.

Hermione struggled out of his grasp. “Yes, I did! What of it? We barely spoke to each other for a week leading up to the day. I was just trying to make it as pleasant an evening as possible. Had I known the sex would be so unsatisfying, I wouldn’t’ve bothered!”

“So that’s your justification for seducing me against my will?”

“ _Against your will?_ You’re always so game that I needn’t ever stoop to such unsavoury tactics. _And_ if I set out to seduce you, you’d be so willing and giddy afterwards that you’d—actually, you know what? I take that back! Seduction is wasted on you. It’s like feeding puff pastry to a pig!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“The last time I tried to seduce you—in the library—ring any bells?—you ran away like a first-year from the Bloody Baron!”

“That’s not what happened!”

“Oh, so now you’re calling me a liar as well as a succubus?”

“I did not—”

“Maybe I should’ve listened to Blaise and provoked you into angry sex! It certainly would’ve been a lot simpler!”

“If you were so desperate for sex, you should’ve just said so! You didn’t have to trick me into it!” Draco bellowed, the tone of betrayal so palpable that her acerbic remark died on her lips. He turned his back on her but couldn’t hide the trembling of his shoulders.

Hermione stepped closer. She had the urge to place a comforting hand but hesitated. “Draco? I’m sorry.” 

He flinched at the closeness of her voice. Hermione raised her hands in placation and took a small step back. Draco wiped away the tears angrily but said in a tone of forced calm, “It’s not your fault.”

“Draco, I didn’t—”

Draco groaned. “No, it’s not your fault. It’s Bella’s.” At her confusion, he huffed and pulled at his hair. Taking another deep breath but avoiding eye contact, he told her, “One Christmas, before I started Hogwarts, Bella and Rudolphus stayed with us for the hols. I was holed up in the tiny reading nook in the library when they crashed in. The two of them had always… liked an audience for their amourous displays. I was going to slip quietly out when I found myself frozen to the spot. One of them—and I suspect it was Bella—had cast an _Impedimenta_ … and made me watch. Well, made me listen.” 

“Oh, Draco, I’m so sorry…”

“And I realized much later,” Draco continued, seeming to not have heard her, “that they had enacted their favourite role-playing game: ‘rape the Mudblood’. So, that night in the library, when I was kissing you against the bookshelves and you let out that moan… y-you sounded so much like she did that day…”

“Oh, Draco!” Hermione pressed her face into his chest and wrapped her arms tightly around him. She burst into tears. 

When she felt in better control of her emotions, Hermione found his comforting arms around her and kisses being pressed into her hair. She pulled her head back to look into his eyes. His accusatory expression and the pain from having to reveal that dreadful secret were gone; what remained was a boy who’d gotten lost in a crowd and didn’t know where home was.

She went on tiptoes and pressed her lips to his.

They spent the rest of the evening setting a new personal record for snogging.

***

As Draco rolled off her, Hermione tried to catch her breath and resuscitate the mental cue cards she’d meticulously organized. But looking into his eyes, her checklists and her planned opening lines suddenly stopped mattering.

“I love you, Draco.” Hermione gave herself a mental slap. How could she have forgotten _this_ one? She also realized, with a pang, that it was the one phrase she rarely verbalized to him.

“I love you, too.” There was uncertainty in his eyes, though. 

Hermione took a deep breath and let her subconscious dictate her next words. “Do you regret marrying me?” _Bugger._ She heard his quick intake of breath and saw fear overtake his features. _Well, in for a penny_ … “I’m always afraid you’ll wake up one morning and realize you should’ve married… someone with a more similar upbringing to you. I _know_ you’re not clinging onto ideas of blood purity,” she added hastily at his expression, “but sometimes I wonder, if you were with someone more used to wealth and power…”

Draco sighed and closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, the anger was gone. “Granger…” ( _Uh-oh._ ) “… am I really such a plonker in your eyes?”

Hermione blinked. _“No!”_

“Then, why would you think I’d want to marry an empty-headed bint _from my social class?_ They’re all like that, as you may have noticed.”

“Narcissa isn’t.”

Draco snorted. “ _Touché_. And don’t you _dare_ say a word about Oedipus—”

“My dad told me that anger is always just a cover-up for fear. I thought he was being dramatic, but I’ve been replaying the fights we’ve been having, and I see that he’s right. I wasn’t trying to be controlling all those times I said we needed to talk, but it was hurtful when you’d shut me out and talk to Blaise and Pansy about your dissatisfactions with me. And I’m sorry that I’ve also done the same to you. I guess we never really had the chance to talk about the distrust we brought to our relationship. We got off on the wrong foot at Hogwarts, but even before that night of the Remembrance Ball, I’d stopped blaming you for what you were taught to believe. I just… I sometimes need you to tell me you don’t see me as a Mudblood.”

Draco had gone very still during her long ramble, but at her last comment, he grabbed her and kissed her fiercely. He’d never been forthcoming about his feelings, and for the first time, Hermione was given a window into the secrets of his heart. She responded with understanding and equal vulnerability.

When they finally broke apart, breathless, Draco caressed her cheek and said, “I’m staying. I belong here.”

***

Hermione had just shut the oven door when Draco startled her with a kiss and hug from behind.

“Smells wonderful.”

“Making cookies for Amelia’s party tomorrow.”

“Are you sure you’ve made enough dough? You know Weasel King can inhale three dozen in a breath.”

“Oh, quit exaggerating. And need I remind you that the last time I made cookies, I found the cookie jar empty the next day?”

“I didn’t eat _all_ of it! I brought some to work to share—”

“Liar. You didn’t. I put a tracer on them to see if they left the house. I had a suspicion.”

“Then you must’ve known the exact moment their delicious remains exited this gorgeous body.”

“Oh, gross, Malfoy! I’m baking!”

“Now who’s a liar? You tell as many fart jokes as your dad whenever we have dinner with your parents.”

“That’s to _humour_ him. Doesn’t mean I _like_ it.”

“Another one of those ‘if you love me’ things?”

“Will you stop using that phrase!”

“Guilt, Granger?”

“Goad, Malfoy? I can always magick some hazelnuts into these cookies. I know how you _love_ hazelnuts and what it does to your skin.”

“Now, who was the one that claimed blackmail was solely a Slytherin tactic?”

“Pansy. Thought she calls it ‘purpose-directed encouragement’.”

“I’m telling her you called her a manipulative bitch. Ow!”

“Then, _I’ll_ tell Narcissa about the crystal figurine.”

“Hitting below the belt!”

“Pots and kettles.”

The beeping of the oven timer interrupted. Hermione took out the finished batch and put in the next.

“Badger-shaped ones. Mrs. Potter will be happy. And Amelia will be old enough to eat them this time.”

“Yes. Poor sweetie was _so_ upset last year. I did charm her batch to be baby-friendly, but I suppose the size and texture was noticeably different—couldn’t help it.”

“The things godmothers must do.”

“The things all adults will do for the children.” Hermione gave him a saucy smile and offered him a cookie. Draco bit into it and moaned. “Our children are going to need to see Granddad Granger twice a year, seeing as both parents are prone to sweet teeth. Their father, especially.”

“Then they can blame their mother for constantly aiding and abetting.”

Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck. “Draco, what do you think about trying for a baby in three months? My project with the Belarusian Ministry will be complete by then.”

Draco beamed and kissed her. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. I had my annual physical with Susan last week, and I purposely asked if I was in good enough health to start considering. Susan gave a very serious talking-to about discussing with you and settling our work schedules. And she emphasized her patient confidentiality oath.”

“I’ll set up an appointment with my Healer to check my own health status. We don’t have any larger projects in the foreseeable future, so overtime won’t be an issue. Of course, there’s always the risk that Phillips melts another cauldron and burns another hole in the floor.”

“I was speaking to Percy about that—well, _he_ talked _at_ me about cauldron regulations. He says the Chinese have a double-thickness one used for a specific potion for healing internal hemorrhaging due to severe trauma. It’s, of course, more expensive, but given the number of replacement cauldrons your department orders on a monthly basis…”

“I’ll speak to Fotheringay-Tewes about ordering one to test-trial.”

“If that fails, you can always suggest putting Phillips on chopping duty. I recall you got out of that tedious task by making Harry do your grunt work in Potions class.”

“I was injured!”

“Fake-injured! If Madam Pomfrey could help Harry regrow the bones of his arm in one night, there’s no way your little scratches weren’t immediately healed.”

“Psychological trauma takes longer.”

“More like childish whinging. And that reminds me: if we’re going to try getting pregnant, you have to stop whinging and pouting like a spoiled brat. I’m not putting up with two crying babies.”

“Fine. And I retain the right to refuse being manipulated into doing tasks you don’t feel like performing ‘because you’re pregnant’. I’ve heard the boys complain enough to know it’s not a myth.”

“Well, I reserve the right to cry without judgment and snarky remarks.”

“You’re a barrel of tears even without the pregnancy hormones. Ah!”

“Just because you’re a heartless bastard, doesn’t mean we all are.”

“Heartless bastards don’t marry bleeding heart Gryffindors. Sends them to an early grave.”

“I could just kill you.”

“You love me too much to do that.”

“Oh really? _Mmmmmphhhh_ …”

“Yes, really.”

“Sod.”

“Harpy. _Mmmmphhhh!_ ”

“I miss this.”

“Being called a harpy? Ah!”

“No, this playful arguing.”

“You mean foreplay.”

“Ugh, it’s always about sex with you men, isn’t it? And I never thought you admired Harry so much you’d continuously use this term he coined.”

“ _He_ didn’t coin it! Blaise did. You just happen to have heard Potter use it first in your hearing.”

“Well, they have a point.”

“The intelligent need more than physical stimulation.”

“Modesty, the preeminent Malfoy virtue.”

“I can’t win with you.”

“I married you, didn’t I?”

“As you’re fond of pointing out, it was a mutual decision.”

“Which our friends and family deemed reckless and desperate.”

“We proved them wrong.”

“Yes, we have. And I plan to continue doing so.”

***

“You’re home late. Something wrong with the negotiations?”

“No.” Hermione put down her coat and workbag and snuggled into Draco’s lap. She wound her arms about his neck and clung to him for several minutes without speaking. 

Draco soothed her back and asked her crown of curls, “What’s wrong?”

Hermione sighed. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled to the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry for hurting Lucius. I just came from the manor. The three of us had a long talk… and your father admitted that while he supports the need to raise funds to repair all the damage caused by the war, he did feel uncomfortable with the method of getting those monies from his friends. He and Arthur have an understanding, so having Arthur monitor him hasn’t been an issue for some time, but he does wish that people would stop holding his past against him. And against you.” Hermione looked up. “I meant it when I said I forgive you for what you did and that we should put our past behind us. I’m sorry I’ve made you think I still blame you.”

Draco sighed. “I just… my worst nightmare is waking up and finding you gone.”

Hermione kissed him. Again. And again. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me.”

Draco grinned. “Like a second Dark Mark. Ow!”

“You say the most romantic things. How on earth did I ever fall in love with you? Oh, right, I remember: I was drunk.”

“Well, we really should check you into Mungo’s—you clearly have a serious drinking problem, given that you’re still clinging to me with such desperation.”

“Maybe you’ve been sneaking a love potion into my food.”

“ _I’ve_ been sneaking the potion? _I_ made sure to stay in a quiet corner where no one would notice me. _You_ snogged me and completely had your wicked way with me.”

“Hmph! You didn’t show any resistance. In fact, you told me it was the best sex you’d ever had.”

“Proof that _I_ was the one poisoned with Amortentia. Ow! Ha, I win!”

“You’re so childish.”

“And you’re so churlish.” 

“Prat.”

“Swot.”

“I love you.”

“That’s completely—”

“Slytherin? _Mmmmmphhhhh_...”

***

“You’re really grasping the technique. I think you should consider getting a broom of your own. You’ll see, once you’ve ridden alone, that it’s an even better ride.”

“I don’t know, Draco. You’re right that I feel much more comfortable about flying, but are you sure…?”

“You’ve been doing all the steering. Once you have enough confidence for that, then you’re ready for the next level. And don’t worry: there are plenty of brooms more built for stability during long travels than speed. We’ll test-try as many as needed to find one you feel secure on.”

“All right. I-I’d still like to go on rides with you occasionally.”

“Well, we’ll find a broom that can accommodate our combined weight. By the way, you mentioned earlier that there’s something you want to get my thoughts on.”

“Oh yes! Fitzsimmons wants me to host a dinner for the Spanish Ambassador and his family at some near-future point.”

“Is Recesvinto still the Ambassador? Mother’s been to one of the dinners the Spanish Embassy hosted. Why don’t you ask her for some suggestions?”

“I did. She says she’s more than willing to help but that I should decide on the overall theme with you. She said we’d have new ideas and bring a refreshing take on the dinner party. Narcissa’s so tactful: I know she means that taking a more Muggle approach would be a novel concept to many in the pure-blood crowd.”

“And it’d be true. Did you know Recesvinto is descended from the Visigothic King Recceswinth? A very ancient lineage. And if you think he’s a condescending wanker now, you should’ve seen how he behaved the first year as Ambassador. Thought the Spanish were superior in everything. Crabbe, Sr. reminded him that trains were invented in Britain.”

“Oh dear! Crabbe, Sr.’s such a man of few words—Recesvinto must’ve been really overbearing.”

“Yep. We boys had a great laugh over it. And for once, our mothers didn’t yell at us for being uncivil.”

“Well, even so, it’s the first time I’m hosting such a formal event. I don’t want to embarrass—”

“You’ve been to enough of dinners hosted by Father’s associates; surely—”

“But those were casual events. This would be like a state dinner. I don’t want to commit any _faux pas_.”

“You know why Mother suggested you ‘do it Muggle’? It’ll be something unfamiliar to the lot we’re hosting. And they wouldn’t _know_ if you’ve made any _faux pas_.”

“Oh! I hadn’t thought of it that way! I’d have to look up how the rich Muggle families host. Mum and Dad don’t really have much experience—”

“Hermione. You’re still not seeing the point. Host it like the annual Granger Christmas party—or better yet, your uncle Sean’s barbeques.”

“I can’t do that! They barely use paper plates and plastic forks! It’s mostly eating with our fingers!”

“Fine, so perhaps you may want to use actual plates and silverware. But the point is the novelty. I doubt many would’ve even heard the term ‘barbeque’.”

“I suppose. But let’s broaden it to an outdoor summer gathering. That way, we can mix and match the menu items and have a more festive decor than backyard casual.”

“Agreed. Why don’t you discuss this with Charmaine the next time we’re over for dinner? I can ask Edmund for suggestions for ales and lager—those would be completely foreign to the lot. Oh, and if you haven’t already, show the guest list to Mother. She can help with seating. Knowing Fitzsimmons, he’d’ve left out some names. Mother can advise on that.”

“You’re right. I’ll drop in tomorrow.”

“Fine. While you’re there, see if Father would be willing to part with two bottles of his Knappogue Castle. It’s usually too strong for after dinners, but if we’re having roast meats, then it’ll be perfect.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Draco, thank you for working through this with me.”

“Pleasure,” Draco replied in his most Lucius intonation. “Why do I suddenly feel like the hired help?”

“I didn’t mean it like that! I’m just—I feel like—We’ve made such progress that it’s almost like brainstorming with Harry and Ron.”

“I don’t know whether to feel complimented or insulted.”

“Prat. I’m just happy we can talk about anything without any of the old fears of judgment.”

“Don’t deceive yourself: there’s always judgment—Ah!—just not necessarily negative.”

“Fine. Laugh. Even though I didn’t marry my best friend, I admit I ended up with someone who makes an even better one because the smarts aren’t so one-sided.”

“Again, not sure if that was a compliment or an insult.”

“Take it however you wish. I recall something about Malfoys not believing in divorce.”

“Well, we’re role models for Pansy and Finnigan. Would hate to disappoint—What are you—hahaha! Stop it, witch! We’re going to fall off the broom!”

“You perhaps.”

“Hahaha—all right, all right, mercy!”

The tickling spell was removed. Hermione gave him a smirk and then executed the perfect landing. She thwacked Draco into a nearby clump of bushes and sauntered toward the back gate of their house.

***

“That was a lovely dinner, Pansy!” said Hermione.

“Hey! I helped, too!”

“And thank you as well for setting the table, Seamus.”

“I washed, peeled, and chopped all the vegetables, I’ll have you know.”

“Finnigan, you’re such a Gryffindor.”

“What’s that s’posed to mean, Zabini?”

“Boys! You just had a game of Quidditch three hours ago.”

“And what does that have to do with anything, Susan?”

“Oh, Ron, you’re so thick. Have the last piece of chicken before we clear the table. Don’t tell our mum, Pansy, but I prefer your herb mix.”

“Why, thank you, Ginny. Seamus, don’t you have something to say?”

“Um, no? _D'anam don diabhal!_ Oh, right! I’d like to propose a toast: to Malfoy and Hermione, for... what was it again, Panse?”

“Hopeless. A toast of congratulations for mending their marriage and wishes for even greater happiness in future.”

“Hear, hear!”

“Cheers!”

Hermione thanked their friends profusely and nudged Draco to say a few words.

“For your well-wishes, many thanks.” He drained his glass and seated once again. The table erupted with laughter.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “We’re both very thankful to all of you for helping us mend our marriage. We’re at a much better place in the relationship, and we couldn’t’ve got here without your support and encouragement.”

“Ready for that baby yet, ’Mione? Amelia’d like a little playmate.”

“We’re ready, but we won’t start trying until next month. I want to finish with the Belarusians first.”

“Merlin! There are going to be more Malfoys in the world! Ow! Ginny!”

“They’ll be half-Granger, don’t forget.”

“That’d just make them doubly stubborn. Ow! ’Mione!”

“You know, Weasel King, I think it best to prepare your mum for the inevitability that you’ll be single forever.”

“Insult my children again, Ronald Bilius Weasley, and you can expect another month-long ban from cookies.”

“Aw, ’Mione…”

“Looks like you _are_ ready for children, Hermione.”

“I have been for several weeks now, as you know, Susan.”

“Have you told the parents of your plan?”

“Not yet, Pansy. We thought there’d be less pressure if we said nothing until we successfully conceived.”

“That’s probably best. Are you going to move into the manor during the pregnancy?”

“No! Why, do you think Narcissa would insist?”

Draco and Blaise snorted. Pansy rolled her eyes. “Looks like we’ll need to have a little talk about more pure-blood traditions, Mrs. Malfoy.”

“I’ve already made inquiries at the Ministry daycare. Once we know we’re pregnant, I can register for a spot.”

“You’re going to have a war on your hands, then, Hermione. You’d better have this talk with Narcissa _before_ you conceive. The stress may affect the sprog’s development.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying, but does she pay any heed?”

“I’m sure if you told Narcissa that it’d lessen the separation anxiety once you’re back to work, she won’t be as disappointed. Although, you may want to consider allowing one of the nanny elves to help on weekends as a compromise.”

Hermione sighed and looked at Draco, who looked smugly back.

“What if ’Mione were to use the sprog’s existence as leverage? Say she won’t have any unless the parents accept her conditions?”

“Ron!”

“You know, Weasel King, you do manage to come up with a good idea on occasion.”

“Blaise!”

“You’re just sore my tactic won us the game this afternoon, Zabini.”

“I agree with Ron. Best way to get them to not fuss. Panse threatened to have a Muggle wedding to shut her mam’s trap.”

“You were thrilled we didn’t have a five-hundred-person guest list, Seamus Finnigan, so don’t make it sound like you were coerced into it.”

“I’m not! Though having three hundred wasn’t that much better. And majority were _your_ guests.”

“Can I help it if my family’s well-connected?”

“Malfoy’s family’s got to be at least as ‘well-connected’, but _they_ didn’t have three hundred guests.”

“That’s because we only gave our mothers two weeks to plan the wedding, Finnigan. You shouldn’t let women have a year to plan anything except birth.”

“Draco Lucius Malfoy!”

“The one and only, my love.”

“Ugh. Well, you boys asked for it: the ladies are going out into the garden for a relaxing chat while you tidy up—without magic. And if things aren’t put away to Pansy’s satisfaction, you’re not getting dessert. Now, hand over your wands or face Ginny’s Bat Bogey Hex, whose results will be added to your task list.”

“Hey, I never said a word against you ladies! Why am I being punished as well?”

“I can’t believe The Chosen One is pretending to side with the ladies to avoid kitchen duty.”

“Yeah, where’s the solidarity, Harry?”

“Potter does have a valid point. Very well, Potter, you can serve us tea while we wait for the tidying up. Seamus can fix it up and hand you everything you need.”

“You’re toast next week, Potter.”

“Afraid of a few dishes, Malfoy? Oh right, you probably assume that the used dishes get thrown out after every meal and new ones bought to replace them. Bet you don’t even know how to prep the dish soap and water.”

“I may not be as experienced in servitude as you, Potter, but I bet I can clean dishes faster than you.”

“Ten Sickles Harry wins.”

“Twenty on Draco.”

“You boys had better not chip my good china.”

“Don’t worry, Pansy. Remember: desserts on the line for them.”

“Right. We’ll leave you to it.”

When they settled in the garden, Ginny asked, “’Mione, how are you managing to stop them from touching the desserts?”

“There isn’t any dessert to hide.”

“What?!”

“That’s right, Ginny. Hermione was going to invite us all to her house after dinner. She has a chocolate gateau waiting for us.”

“And Draco doesn’t know about it?!”

“I took the afternoon from work to make it. Draco always goes straight to the Quidditch pitch after work on Fridays.”

“Genius.”

“Devious, Ginny. Living with a Slytherin will do that, I suppose.”

“Wish I could say that about Seamus.”

“Don’t complain, Pansy. Do you honestly _want_ Seamus to develop an inner Slytherin? Like Hermione’s?”

“Fair point.”

Harry came out with the tea things. “Thank you for saving my skin, Mrs. Finnigan. Here’s your tea. Shall I pour?”

“Thank you, Mr. Potter. No, I thank you. I will manage. Just try not to outdo Draco too much. Look on it as a favour to Hermione.”

“Of course.”

After Harry was out of earshot, Susan asked, “So, things have been going well at home, Hermione?”

“Yes, much better. We’ve found a way to raise issues without having to walk on eggshells. Things aren’t perfect, of course, and we still push each other’s buttons occasionally. But compared to the wall of miscommunication we had before, there’s much less misunderstanding and subsequent resentment. I didn’t even realize how bad the situation was until I looked back. I’m sometimes amazed we never threatened divorce.”

“Well, it means you still hadn’t reached the point where you forget you love each other and why you married each other in the first place.”

“I suppose.”

“Oh, you know Susan’s right, ’Mione. Despite your worries that you rushed into things, turns out your gut instincts were sound.”

“Being around The Chosen One and helping him with his battles has to have some impact.”

“True! Nothing like life-and-death to hone reflexes.”

“Well, Hermione, we’re all very happy for you. Here’s to a successful attempt at becoming a first-time mum!”

“Seconded!”

“Cheers, girls! And thank you!”

***

“You what?!” Hermione stared at him.

“Don’t tell me that acute sense of hearing you’re always harping about has suddenly deserted you! Besides, where’s your sense of adventure?”

“I’d had plenty during my Hogwarts years, as you may recall.”

“Well, this won’t be as dire, I’m sure. You were only just reading an article in one of your Muggle newspapers about how important it is to have spontaneity for a healthy marriage. So?”

“I… but…”

“Afraid, Granger?”

“ _NO!_ But I…”

“Mrs. Potty trusts Looney to look after Amelia, you know.” Draco’s smirk widened when Hermione glowered.

“Fine! Let’s do this.” Under her breath, she muttered, “It’s only for a day.” Raising her voice, she asked, “Did she say what sort of weather conditions to pack for?”

“No, just something suitable for the current season and to pack light. We won’t be doing anything fancy.”

“All right. I’ll start packing.”

“Oh, Looney says to pack some Dittany, for emergencies,” Draco called after her.

As Hermione retrieved her bag with the Undetectable Extension Charm, she shook her head, still in disbelief that Draco had asked _Luna_ to plan a date for them—a full day event to boot! While Hermione had grown to trust Luna’s instincts and respect her knowledge about magical creatures (real and imaginary), there were _some_ … more _pragmatic_ things for which she would rather trust another’s judgment. 

But perhaps Draco had a point: however “whimsical” Luna’s choice was, it certainly would not be ordinary. And they might discover an activity they would never have considered but end up enjoying immensely. 

Taking a deep breath, Hermione checked off the items on her mental list as she located them. In a sudden flash of insight, she Floo’d to her parents’ home to retrieve some spare medical supplies that they normally used at their practice.

The following morning, promptly at 8:03 a.m., their Portkey activated.

“Welcome, welcome! You must be Draco and Hermione! I’m Eoghan; pleased to meet you both.” A man in brown overalls beamed at them and collected the broken green yo-yo from them, tossing it into the wicker basket at his feet. “We’re still expecting a few more people, so please head over to the big tent to grab your equipment. I’ll be joining you shortly.”

The couple manning the tent provided them with clothing similar to Eoghan’s, work boots, and sturdy gardening gloves. They were then informed that tent number three had been prepared for them. If they could please change into their work clothes and wait by the edge of the field. 

There were about a dozen people already gathered by the field when Draco and Hermione arrived. They introduced themselves and could tell that their names, at least, were quite familiar to most. 

At 9:00 a.m., Eoghan joined the group and explained the task ahead: they would be planting trees, helping to extend the edge of the small woodland to the north of where they were standing. There were a variety of saplings and young shrubs to choose from—hawthorn, oaks of the Welsh and English varieties, downy birch, rowan, and goat willow—and what plant was chosen would determine how and where people went inside the field. The trees would be planted in specifically marked off spots so that they would be properly spaced; the smaller shrubs could be planted anywhere, so long as a mixture was planted within the same patch. 

“Oh, one more thing—I’d almost forgot! You’ll need to give me your wands for safekeeping—I promise I won’t make off with them! And I hope, without needing an oath from each of you, that I have your word that you’ll not use wandless magic to ease your labours. Young plants are particularly susceptible to magic, and we want them to grow strong and at their own pace—spells inevitably interfere with the natural processes.”

Hermione couldn’t hold back her grin at Draco’s scowl. “Afraid of some honest work, Malfoy?” 

Draco sniffed and marched off to hand his wand to Eoghan. 

Hermione couldn’t curb her curiosity and asked Eoghan where they were and for more details about the project. 

“Oh! Just outside of Bracknell. Used to be a dense forest here, but of course, the settlements soon took over. We’re just trying to do our little bit to repair the land. Meaning no disrespect, Madam Granger-Malfoy, but that concrete and tar the Muggles are using to cover up the land is really damaging.”

“Oh, I know it is! And I think this project is wonderful! I must thank my friend Luna Lovegood for setting this up for Draco and myself.”

“Ah, the lovely Luna! Brilliant gal! Do give her my regards—haven’t seen her in… must be six months. Been busy with this project, ’course.”

Hermione assured him that she would pass on his greetings and went in search of Draco. Together, they decided to start with planting hawthorn and goat willow, to get a feel for the technique, and, if time permitted, perhaps they could try planting a downy birch.

A simple and nutritious luncheon was provided at midday and the group gathered to compare notes and the depths of their scratches. 

After the meal, Draco and Hermione felt that they were up to the task of planting an English oak and were pointed toward one of the far corners of the field. Much to their chagrin, they discovered that the soil was much harder in this patch and that their enthusiasm wasn’t quite sufficient to overcome the slight bit of fatigue that was starting to set in. After successfully digging the hole into which the sapling would be placed, Draco declared breaktime, so they grabbed their birch-bark water bottles and leaned against one of the posts used to mark the boundary of the field. 

Feeling somewhat recovered, Hermione pushed against the post to regain an upright posture but tripped over some vegetation and tumbled toward the double row of barbed wire that made up the fence. Bracing for impact, she suddenly fell right through… and almost rammed head-first into the back of a lorry parked in the middle of a massive lot and being shaded by a thin island of trees. She heard Draco scramble after her and stop short at the sight. Looking around, Hermione realized that they were in the middle of an industrial area. There were other islands of trees that divided the parking lot into sections, and the one they’d stumbled out of cleverly hid the field they’d been working in. 

“So… the field is magically hidden from the Muggles?” Draco ventured.

“Must be. And for some reason, Eoghan has chosen to plant a magical forest in the middle of a parking lot. This must be what he meant about trying to repair the damage caused by the covering up of vast areas of land. If I were to guess, he’s trying to join together the isolated patches of existing forests but in such a way that the buildings and houses in between need not be torn down or relocated.”

“Very clever. The land can be revitalized, magical creatures will have safer means of traversing their dwindling habitats, and we can still maintain the Statute of Secrecy.”

Draco and Hermione exchanged glances of admiration. 

“We should head back. The sapling is waiting.”

“Yes. Draco, what do you think about taking a week off sometime soon and coming back to do some more planting? Or maybe head to a different locale.”

“So, Looney’s idea isn’t so looney after all.”

Hermione kissed him. “You’re not so looney either.”

Making sure no one would observe them, they disappeared into the trees, hand-in-hand.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my small attempt to take the well-established Sonata-Allegro form used in “classical” music and adapt it to literal storytelling. Very briefly, the structure of a piece in Sonata-Allegro form is as follows:
> 
> 1\. Optional Introduction: usually slower in speed than the rest of the piece, may or may not be repeated in later parts of the piece;  
> 2\. Exposition: where two or more themes are introduced, one after another, with transitions in between, and the section ends in a small conclusory bit;  
> 3\. Development: where harmonic and textural possibilities of all themes are explored, expanded, and intermingled;  
> 4\. Recapitulation: all the themes are restated and resolved*, and the section ends in a final conclusion.
> 
> (*the themes are usually in different keys (e.g., first theme in C major, second in G major), so resolving them means putting all of them in the same key, i.e., the key of the first theme.)
> 
> Sonata-Allegro form in many ways is similar to the short story format.
> 
> For purposes of the story, I took some liberties with canon timeline with regards to when the Lestranges attacked the Longbottoms and rendered them permanently incapacitated. I imagined Draco was around age six when the Lestranges were finally put in Azkaban.
> 
> And finally:
> 
> “This is the very ecstasy of love  
> Whose violent property foredoes itself,  
> And leads the will to desperate undertakings.” Shakespeare, _Hamlet_ , II:1 (Polonius)
> 
> “O, Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou, Romeo?” Shakespeare, _Romeo and Juliet_ , II:2 (Juliet)
> 
> “If thou remember'st not the slightest folly  
> That ever love did make thee run into,  
> Thou hast not lov'd.” Shakespeare, _As You Like It_ , II:4 (Silvius)
> 
> “They say all lovers swear more performance than they  
> are able, and yet reserve an ability that they never perform.” Shakespeare, _Troilus and Cressida_ , III:2 (Cressida)
> 
> “I do not seek to quench your love's hot fire,  
> But qualify the fire's extreme rage,  
> Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason.” Shakespeare, _Two Gentlemen of Verona_ , II:7 (Lucetta)


End file.
